Mass Effect: The Lost Ones
by Joey245
Summary: Three years after the Reaper War, Gillian Grayson emerges from a Cerberus research facility to find a galaxy still struggling to rebuild. With no friends or enemies, she wanders to the Citadel, which has become a haven for refugees and those orphaned by the war. Her autism and biotics make finding friends difficult already; can she adapt to a galaxy still in grief?
1. Prologue

For as long as she could remember, Gillian had been alone.

She sat on the floor in the corner of her cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she waited for the door across from her to slide open. The sleeveless, shoeless uniform from yesterday's testing still clung to her tall, slender frame, tattered and torn and stained with sweat and blood. Her long, tangled hair fell around her like a black veil, concealing her hazel eyes and the typical expression of a high-functioning autistic. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting like this, or how long she had been waiting for breakfast – in fact, even the concept of time and its passage eluded her, as if seconds, minutes, days, and weeks no longer held any meaning, and time itself ceased to be important.

That tended to happen to Cerberus prisoners.

Gillian Grayson had a long history with the pro-human organization, widely (and rightfully) hated by the entire galaxy, by Council and non-Council races alike. Between their constant experiments that always seemed to end in death and destruction, the terrorist attacks on any non-human settlement or group, and their high body count of important leaders, peacekeepers, and heroes, Cerberus was a "humans-first" paramilitary group that considered every option a justifiable option, and that securing the ascension of humanity was worth every brutal execution and every catastrophic act of sabotage. Gillian had been a valuable pawn in the work of Cerberus since the day she was born – the day she was ripped out of her mother's dying arms and delivered to an agent by the name of Paul Grayson.

For decades, Cerberus had worked to create the most powerful human biotic the galaxy had ever seen. The ability to create localized mass effect fields, granted by nodes of element zero that lined the central nervous system, was a rare and powerful ability, one that few individuals were capable of developing let alone mastering. Despite the advances made by the Alliance in the development of implants and biotic training, humans were still completely outclassed in terms of ability by races like the asari, who practically learned how to manipulate gravity before even learning how to walk. Cerberus deemed Alliance efforts insufficient, claiming that clinging to morality about safety and mental health was holding back progress, keeping humanity from becoming the dominant race it was evidently destined to be. So the human-survivalist group took matters into their own hands, and after years of suffering and death, managed to produce a single human biotic that could take on four asari commandoes while unarmed and walk away without a scratch.

And that biotic was sitting in that cell, her stomach rumbling as it tried to digest empty space and failed.

Lacking any other options, Gillian decided to run through her memories again. She thought back to all the nights when her father and his friend pumped her full of drugs, meant to stimulate her biotic potential but worsening the problems caused by autism. She thought back to a normal day in the cafeteria, when she freaked out and inadvertently created a singularity all because Nick had made her spill her milk. She thought back to the day that her father took her from Grissom Academy after a seizure, dragging along her teachers Hendel Mitra and Kahlee Sanders for the ride that left them all trapped in a warehouse on Omega. She thought back to how Paul Grayson's "friend" planned to sell them all to the Collectors, and how they had all been rescued by one brave young quarian on his Pilgrimage. She remembered how Lemm'Shal had taken them all to the Migrant Fleet, where they were given refuge while Cerberus looked for her relentlessly. She remembered the day that the _Idenna_ came under attack by Cerberus, led by her father in search of her and then foiled by the same man. Other memories floated past her, like how she helped the crew of the _Idenna_ fight back against a batarian slave ship that thrust her into a mission to take vengeance on the Illusive Man.

A mission that, given her current situation, had _not_ succeeded.

The sound of a sliding door opening in a familiar hissing noise interrupted Gillian's thoughts, and she looked up slightly to see three figures standing outside her cell. Two of them were huge, armored, and carrying assault rifles, while the third was a head taller than her, wearing heels and a lab coat and using an omni-tool. The larger figures each took a tray from out of sight and slid them in front of her, and then the door closed again.

"Time for breakfast, Gillian," said a chipper female voice, "Eat, and then get dressed. We have another big day ahead of us."

Gillian gave no reply as she sat up, stretching her stiff back as she moved to a kneeling position. She ate the plate of processed nutritional paste without a word, pausing only to swallow and take a sip of acrid-tasting energy drink to wash down the tasteless mush. The usage of biotics took such a toll on her metabolism that caffeinated, electrolyte-saturated beverages were all but _required_ to keep her from passing out – and although the plate she had just cleaned had enough carbs to make an entire pack of varren grow fat and lazy, Gillian barely felt the hunger subside as she wished there was more to consume.

After licking the last of the goop off the plate, Gillian looked at the fresh jumpsuit that had arrived alongside her morning meal. It looked exactly the same as all the other jumpsuits she had worn – same silver cloth, same sleeveless design, same golden hexagonal symbol that identified her as property of Cerberus.

She pulled off the tattered remains of yesterday's outfit, sighing in relief and resignation as she picked up the new uniform. She pulled it on carefully, wincing slightly as she tightened the belt around her waist. Before securing it completely, she ran her hand over the small, almost-invisible scar that nonetheless constantly reminded her of the mistake she had made in her rampage of revenge. Kai Leng, the Illusive Man's top assassin, had gotten a near-fatal hit in using a shiv he had fashioned out of a toothbrush, but heavy doses of medi-gel and rapid response from trained medical professionals had saved her – or rather, saved all the work and effort that Cerberus had poured into making her the most powerful human biotic to ever live. Still, Gillian was not ungrateful that she was alive; after all, how embarrassing would it be if the most powerful human biotic had been killed with a _toothbrush?_

After getting dressed, Gillian knocked three times on the door, signaling to her "friends" that she was decent. The doors slid open again, and Gillian now stood at eye-level with the scientist, backed by two Assault Troopers with fresh thermal clips in their weapons.

"Good morning, Gillian," said the scientist, "did you sleep well?"

Gillian nodded without saying anything.

"Excellent. Now, could you hold out your arms for me?"

She did so, knowing full well what was coming. It was the same thing every day, the same procedure and the same routine. After breakfast, she would be escorted through the security station, where she would get her biotic amp plugged into her implant. Then biotic demonstrations, where she would demonstrate mastery of every ability she had learned. Then the biotic amp would be removed again, and she would be put in the chair. After a few hours in the chair, lunch. After lunch, she would take a nap while hooked up to a bunch of wires. Then she would get her amp plugged back in, and then she would go into the chair for a few more hours. Supper was next, followed by watching videos of other people doing biotics. Then she would be returned to her cell after her amp was removed again, and then she was told to sleep until breakfast was served again. It was a painful, arduous, horrible routine – but at least it was consistent.

One of the Assault Troopers pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pouch, slamming them over Gillian's thin arms and binding them together. Then the scientist started walking down the hall, and Gillian followed by her side, as the Assault Troopers brought up the rear.

Another day awaited her.

Another day, just like every other.

* * *

(A/N) This is my first ongoing story on this website, but far from my first ongoing story overall. I'm mostly writing this for myself, and plan to update it more frequently as time goes on.

For those unfamiliar with the books, Gillian Grayson was a twelve-year-old girl in the tie-in novel _Mass Effect: Ascension._ She was autistic, a super-powerful biotic, and one of my favorite secondary characters in the novels. She's not mentioned or referenced to outside of the games (aside from a brief side remark from Tali in Mass Effect 2), but she still held a lot of appeal for me personally; as someone who has lived with Asperger's Syndrome (and autism in general from the rest of my family), I immediately identified with Gillian Grayson, and was glad to see such a powerful character with a character trait that I live with.

And then _Mass Effect: Deception_ came along and screwed all that up.

BioWare has said that they would go back and re-release a new version of the book with the continuity errors corrected, but they never did. And I don't hold it against them; between Dragon Age: Inquisition, the upcoming Mass Effect: Andromeda, and putting out fires related to the ending of Mass Effect 3, there really was no good financial or worthwhile reason to correct a book that almost no one read anyways. And it's not like the plot problems would be corrected either; in the end, Gillian Grayson would still probably die because the Illusive Man and Kai Leng needed to stay alive for Mass Effect 3 (for some reason). So this isn't a rewrite; it's a continuation. Gillian's story was butchered and overlooked, and it's about time she got a story that continues the little autistic girl I liked in _Ascension_.

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	2. Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

The halls of the Cerberus research facility were as quiet as death, and about as welcoming and friendly. The walls were a pale, sterile white, and faintly smelled of powerful cleaning agents. Every door along the hall was sealed tightly with a secure electronic lock, all of which softly blinked with the light of an orange hologram. The lights were a pale blue, and the ground was as smooth and cold as stone. It was, for all intents and purposes, a lifeless environment.

Gillian Grayson marched down the hallway, her arms restrained in a pair of handcuffs and her face blank and emotionless. Ahead of her, a tall, red-haired scientist wearing a white lab coat led the way, her heels clicking and echoing in the otherwise-silent halls. Directly behind her, a pair of white-armored Cerberus Assault Troopers marched in formation, M-96 Mattocks already loaded and ready to fire at Gillian should she rebel.

Not that the autistic biotic had any reason to. Despite her hatred for Cerberus and the Illusive Man, Gillian found some morbid comfort in the entire routine. Her life was miserable, yes, but it was also stable; to lash out or do something different would break what little status quo remained, and she was not sure if she could handle the change.

After all, things had changed far too much before she arrived.

"How are you feeling today, Gillian?" asked the scientist.

She shrugged.

"Did you have any interesting dreams?"

She shook her head.

"Are you ready for another exciting day?"

She nodded.

"Good. Good, good."

Autism might have dampened her social awareness and her ability to read other people, but Gillian easily picked up on the fear and anxiety present in the scientist's voice. Beneath that fake plastered smile and artificial cheery disposition was a scared woman who knew exactly what the young teenager could do with biotics. That was why Gillian and her all-important biotic amplifier were kept in separate rooms under lock and key – and why there was always an armed guard standing at the ready when her biotic abilities were live.

A short walk later found the entourage in front of a large door, which hissed and slid open to reveal a small square room with another door. The holographic panel on the door opposite the security station was a bright red, indicating that the door was inoperable for the moment. After Gillian and her "friends" passed through the first door, it slid shut again with the sound of pressure seals engaging. The once-green holographic panel now changed to red, and a low humming sound could be heard. Due in part to her autism, Gillian's senses bordered on hypersensitivity - every sound, every scent, every light, every sensation affected her more than it would a neurotypical human, and she was quick to pick up on details other people would miss. Like how the security scanner was looking for weapons on her exclusively – and how it was conveniently excluding the two Assault Troopers who were clearly more heavily-armed than she could ever be.

"Now, Gillian," said the scientist as the security station did its work, "we have a new friend on the other side of that door today. I know that you get along really well with Mr. Shen, but he…he's on vacation right now. A very long vacation."

Gillian said nothing, watching the scientist as her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She saw through the lie at once, unimpressed with the scientist woman's attempt to cover up the truth. Did she really think Gillian would buy that the last technician was on vacation? After threatening to go to the Alliance after a malfunction in the chair nearly fried her brain? She was almost insulted at how much effort Cerberus put into trying to keep her in the dark. She was autistic, not stupid.

Although…hadn't the same thing happened before? Hadn't Mr. Shen been a replacement for Mr. Vahlen, who in turn had been a replacement for Mr. Van Doorn? How many technicians had come and gone in her time here? Did Cerberus really have that high of a turnover rate? Or was something else a little bit…off?

"So, until Mr. Shen comes back," continued the scientist uncertainly, "you're going to be working with Mr. Bradford. He's nice, don't worry. You'll get along just fine."

The door on the other side of the security station opened up, and the scientist marched forward, letting a sigh of exhaustion out under her breath. Gillian followed like an obedient little girl, backed by two Assault Troopers who were aiming their guns at her back. The other side of the security station wasn't much bigger than the station itself; just a narrow corridor with a desk on one side and a twitchy Phantom on the other. The technician sat behind the desk reading a holographic tablet, his head bobbing in tune to the music coming out of his oversized crimson headphones.

 _Just like Mr. Shen,_ thought Gillian, _Mr. Shen was wearing those same headphones yesterday. He even looks exactly like…_

"Isn't that right, Mr. Bradford? Mr. Bradford? _Bradford!_ "

The new technician suddenly looked up at his boss, realizing it was time for him to do his job. He awkwardly scrambled out of his seat and yanked his wireless headphones off his ears, hanging them around his neck as he punched a password into a nearby storage locker.

"Bradford," snapped the scientist impatiently, all warmth vanishing from her voice, " _must_ you listen to music during testing?"

"Well, it sure as hell beats listening to nothing," said the technician, "I mean, if I'm gonna sit there all day, might as well listen to some Expel 10, right?"

While the scientist and technician argued over proper work etiquette, Gillian's attention was drawn to the datapad that the technician had carelessly left behind. Now that she had noticed a pattern, she could not help but be curious about what other things she had missed. Did the same thing happen every day? Did the technician always leave the datapad on the desk in plain sight? Without moving a muscle, she squinted at the holographic tablet, trying to read what it said from this distance. It appeared to be the latest update from the Cerberus News Network, delivered across the galaxy by the often-taken-for-granted extranet. Most of the text was too small for Gillian to make out, but the data was quite clearly visible…and when she read the year to herself, her heart skipped a beat.

 _2189, CE._

Gillian frowned. That couldn't be right. It was 2186 when she had been captured in her failed assassination of the Illusive Man. It was 2186 when Kai Leng stabbed her with a sharpened toothbrush, after killing the rest of her friends and everyone else she knew personally. But according to this…that was three years ago. Three years of being trapped in a Cerberus research facility, three years of her life wasted being a captive, three years of experiments and drugs and torment and pain and tears and blood…that couldn't be right. Could it?

Her legs were trembling, but she held her chin firm and tried not to react. Even as her mind tried to reject this new idea, Gillian had to admit that the evidence fit. She was taller than she had been when she was captured – not significantly taller, but taller all the same. She wasn't a little girl anymore; if she was fifteen when she tried to assassinate the Illusive Man, then by now she would have to be…eighteen? She was a young woman now, at least in age. And normally, Cerberus personnel were extremely careful about not leaving any kind of information like this in plain sight for her to see, for reasons she was always curious about. Now that the technician had made a careless blunder, she finally realized why; they were keeping her locked into a routine, trying to keep her from realizing how long she had been here.

How long she had belonged to _them_.

The Phantom was looking at her, following her gaze to the datapad. Gillian quickly shifted her gaze to what was in front of her, pretending she hadn't even seen the crucial piece of info. By this point, the scientist and technician had retrieved the biotic amplifier from its secure container, and now kneeled close to her.

Partly due to her autism and partly due to her personality, Gillian had a very well-defined list of things she did not like. At the top of the list was the Illusive Man, Kai Leng, and toothbrushes, but those were borne of bad experiences. The rest of her list came from being especially hypersensitive and easily overstimulated; loud noises, bright flashing lights, and physical proximity to other people all set her on edge. A flashbang grenade going off could leave her stunned for days on end, a single whiff of a pungent decaying odor was enough to make her gag, and even physical contact as simple as a shoulder pat was enough to send her into a panic attack. She did not like being touched, not when she didn't ask for it; so having the technician and the scientist be this close as they unlocked her shackles and plugged in her biotic amp always made her uneasy, especially now that she knew the truth.

Still, that little bit of discomfort was a small price to pay compared to the feeling of her biotics coming alive.

A bluish-violet corona of light flared around her, as she felt a surge of power flood through her veins. Yes! This was the feeling she loved! The feeling of millions of millions of microscopic nodes of element zero becoming active, fueled by the electricity in her nervous system. The power of mass effect – the power to increase and decrease the mass of a physical, actual object – was at her fingertips, and with nothing more than her mind, her amp, and years of training, she could shape the world around her at her whim. She could throw an elcor across a room. She could tear a geth apart at a molecular level. She could make a krogan fly in mid-charge, and laugh as their momentum made them fly over her head. She could will a black hole into existence, blow everyone away with a blast of force around her, or stop a volley of enemy fire dead in the air before it even came close to her.

She was a _goddess._

And yet she was still trapped.

"Now, Gillian," said the scientist, leaning in close as the technician pulled away, "Listen to me. You are going to go into the next room, and you will show us every trick you know. After that, you will come back in here, give us your amp, and then go into the chair. If you do anything else, you will not get lunch, and you will stay in your cell for a week. Do you understand?"

Normally, Gillian would have said "yes" without hesitation. She had heard it a thousand times before, and it never changed.

But in light of the new information regarding the date, she decided to try something else.

"What year is it?"

The scientist, the technician, the Assault Troopers, and the Phantom all stared at her, wearing the same blank expression. At first, Gillian thought it was she spoke so rarely that no one knew how to react. But it soon became clear that this was not the case.

"Error: that is not a valid answer," said the "scientist" in a monotone voice. "Repeating question."

Gillian raised an eyebrow. Did the scientist in front of her just… _flicker?_

"Now, Gillian," said the scientist, "Listen to me. You are going to go into the next room, and you will show us every trick you –"

"Are you real?"

Again, all those present froze and stared at her. Gillian was beginning to suspect that the answer to her question was a solid "no."

"Error: that is not a valid answer," said the "scientist" again. "Further incorrect inputs will result in subject termination. Repeating last question. Now, Gillian –"

 _BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM BLAM. SNKT!_

Gillian gasped as the scientist's head exploded in front of her, turning into a shower of white data cubes instead of crimson giblets. She looked and saw the head of the technician do the same, while the helmets of the Assault Troopers exploded into orange hexagons. And she caught a glimpse of a figure cloaked in shadows grappling with the Phantom, before overpowering her and using her own sword to cleave her into two pieces.

The figure threw the sword down onto one half of the Phantom as it dissolved into purple hexagons. Then he turned to look at Gillian, who was staring at him as she tried to discern his identity.

"Hey Gigi," said the figure in a human voice.

She recognized him immediately.

"Daddy!" she screamed, running towards him like a little girl. Paul Grayson, who was very much dead as dead could be, opened up his arms to his adopted daughter, catching her in a tight embrace. Gillian wrapped her arms around her father's torso, burying her face into his shoulder and letting herself be held.

She held onto him for a long time, and he held onto her for just as long.

But it wasn't long enough.

Paul let go of her, gently pushing her away by her shoulders while he stared into her eyes. Gillian normally struggled to make eye contact with others, and so never really bothered to do it when talking. For her father, though, whom she had bled to avenge, she was willing to make an exception.

"I don't understand," she said quietly, "How can you be here? You're dead."

"That I am," said Paul, "Doesn't mean I can't show up in your memories."

"…am _I_ dead?" she asked.

"Not right now, no. But that will change if you don't leave now. There isn't much time, Gigi, and we need to act fast. You have time for five questions, so choose them carefully."

Gillian bit her lip. Five questions? She had a thousand that she wanted to ask. A hundred thousand. A million. Like why did he turn her into a weapon? Why did he allow the Illusive Man to torment her? Why did he endanger his friends? Why did he keep buying red sand? Why did he turn his back on the Illusive Man after getting his trust? And did he ever really love her?

For now, though, she knew better than to ask them all. It was better to ask the most pressing questions right now.

After all, this wasn't _really_ Paul Grayson.

"Is this the real world?" asked Gillian.

"No, it is not," said Paul, "This is an illusion created by your subconscious, programmed and given form by human code and Prothean technology. Cerberus has been researching dreamscape technology for some time now; you are the latest subject in an experiment that likely died long ago. You now have four questions remaining."

Prothean technology? Dreams made real? Gillian wanted to ask those, but intuited that she needed to be hooked up to a machine of some sorts to be able to access this place. And that meant that her body had to be somewhere…but where?

"What is the status of my physical body?" asked Gillian.

"In suspended animation," answered Paul, "Your body is resting peacefully inside a recovered Prothean stasis pod, connected to a computer terminal that is generating the world you see around you. Environmental sensors indicate that the stasis pod and the surrounding environment do not display any signs of failure or hazard; the mainframe, however, is failing. The power source for the terminal is running dangerously low, and no effort has been made to replace the cell or reconnect to an auxiliary power source. Due to the connections required, you are currently uploading your consciousness to this mainframe; if that mainframe fails, then you will die. Three questions remaining."

Gillian processed this new information quickly. So her body – her true self – was in suspended animation, in a stasis pod from one of the forerunners of the modern galaxy. She had no idea where that tank was, but if her "father" had gone out of his way to say that the ambient environment was non-hazardous, she could guess that she was safe…relatively.

She ran through the logic in her head. She had three questions remaining before something bad happened, and she wanted to save one of them for finding out how to escape and leave the mainframe before it failed. But there was something that was on her mind, something that she had to know. Something about Paul, her father, and why he was showing up now.

"What are you, and why do you look like my father?" she asked, hoping that her statement counted for one question instead of two.

"I am a Prothean VI embedded into the neurological interface," said Paul, "designation: Valiance. My function is to monitor the subject during stasis, and alert them and awaken them if the pod or any other connections are endangered. I take my appearance, knowledge, and personality from your memories, and the people you have met in life before you went into suspended animation. Your most prominent emotions are tied to your adopted father, Paul Grayson, and so that is the appearance I have taken. Your life is in danger, Gigi, and I am here to wake you up – to save you. Two questions remaining."

Gillian frowned. She figured that this wasn't actually Paul Grayson, but part of her wanted the shadow of her father to be real. The scared, lonely little girl in her wanted back everything Cerberus had taken from her, no matter how impossible it was.

Time to ask the major question.

"What do I need to do to wake up?" asked Gillian.

"Nothing," said Paul, "I will wake you up whenever you are ready. You will awaken in your stasis pod, and I will open the doors. From there, however, you are on your own. I am confined to the stasis pod, and I cannot go with you. Simply tell me when you are ready, and I shall disconnect you from the simulation. You have one question remaining; choose it well."

Gillian bit her lower lip. She wasn't sure why she was asking, or why she had saved it for last, or what kind of answer she expected.

"I know that you're not really my father," said Gillian, her voice trembling, "but…I need to know. My father…daddy…did you love me?"

Paul Grayson reached out and hugged her again, holding her tightly. Despite the whole thing being false, Gillian felt real tears well up in her eyes.

"Always, Gigi," said Paul Grayson, "You've always been my little girl. I never meant for you to get hurt, or for any of your friends to…I'm so sorry. You don't have to forgive me. You can be mad at me, if you want. Just know that no matter what you were to the Illusive Man…you were always the whole world to me. And I'm sorry I never got to tell you."

The young autistic biotic sobbed, letting tears fall down her cheek.

"I miss you, Daddy," she choked, "I miss you…so much…"

"Miss you too, Gigi. You ready to go?"

Gillian nodded.

"No more going back to bed. Remember…I love you…"

As she felt the digital world around her splinter apart and fall away, Gillian barely whispered one more phrase.

"I love you too."

* * *

The first breath was like the breath of life.

A sound like air hissing out of a pressure lock filled her ears, causing a ringing sensation that didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Gillian nearly gagged on the air itself, coughing and spluttering as fluid that probably served some purpose dribbled from her chin.

Whatever was holding her upright suddenly opened up, and Gillian fell to the ground in a fit of gasps and tears.

She managed to catch herself on her hands just before her face slammed into the ground, so her knees and her wrists took the brunt of the blow. Her long, black hair fell around her face as she coughed up whatever was in her lungs, feeling the shock of being ejected from stasis hit her all at once.

After a minute of coughing so hard that tears bled from her eyes, Gillian spent the next ten on her hands and knees, focusing on taking one breath at a time. Her entire body was sore and her every joint ached, and her skin felt like it was on fire while her spine shivered as cold air gripped her exposed arms, legs, and torso.

It was one of her better recoveries from suspended animation, all things considered.

When she could finally breathe without her lungs screaming in protest, she carefully rose to her feet. She held her arms unsteadily at her side as she fumbled and stumbled around, holding onto the wall like a toddler learning to walk for the first time.

Once she had gotten walking down pat, she took to looking around her surroundings. She was in a research facility, one that was completely identical to the one that her mind was trapped inside. Only this one was far less clean and pristine – quite the opposite, actually. The entire area was covered in thick, choking plants and overgrowth, and the only sound that reached her ears was the chirping of alien insects.

Gillian shivered as she huddled her arms close to her chest. She was wearing a pair of skintight shorts and a tube top, both of which were a pale white. There was no sign of battle, no blood or other fluids – it was as fresh as it had been the day she was put into stasis.

With another shiver at the prospect of being changed by Cerberus personnel, Gillian set about exploring the abandoned facility. She had spent enough time in her virtual reality to know her way around, even with the changes brought about by the uncontrolled growth of strange plants. As the VI within the simulation had told her, the abandoned facility was completely without power; the only light that came in was from the sun pouring through the cracked ceiling. There was no sign of life, nor was there any indication of movement – the only living thing in there apart from the plants was Gillian herself.

 _I won't get too far without an omni-tool of some kind,_ she thought as she looked at a sealed door in exasperation. _Even if I can't decrypt the locks, on these doors, I can still break the internal components with the right tools. But I can't make those tools by hand – there's got to be something around here that's still working._

She eventually found one just outside the lab, where she had realized that the simulation wasn't real just moments earlier. Or was it just that recently? Regardless, she held her breath in anticipation as she slipped the black glove onto her arm, letting it out in a sigh of relief when an orange holographic interface formed around her hand and forearm. A quick glance through the display told her that this came from the Savant line of products, one of the higher tiers that boasted greater memory space, high-speed extranet connection, and a more complex array of fabrication modules than other models. An omni-tool like this must have cost a fortune in credits – but Gillian figured that for a group like Cerberus, money was no object.

 _It's easy to be frivolous when no one's brave enough to stop you from spending so much,_ thought Gillian. She noticed that the omni-tool was currently linked to another device, and soon she began hearing soft classical music echoing through the room she was in. Following her ears, she soon found what the supercomputer on her wrist was transmitting to: a pair of wireless crimson headphones, exactly like the ones that the new technician wore every day in her virtual prison. Since omni-tools could run off just the electromagnetic field in most organics, the device must have entered shutdown mode once the omni-tool turned off; as soon as she had put the glove back on, the input turned the headphones on again. With a shrug, Gillian slipped the headphones onto her head, and (after turning the volume down considerably) closed her eyes as she listened to the sweet sound of real music for the first time in too long.

Now that she had the appropriate level of tech, it was easy for Gillian to force her way into the numerous sealed doors that lined the halls of the dead facility. She found an armor kit that contained all the special components needed to make a combat hardsuit (deep crimson ceramic components and black fiber mesh, all hallmarks of Ariake Technologies' old line of Mercenary armor) as well as more than enough omni-gel to turn the pieces into a complete suit. She didn't find any other clothes, not that she expected to; for now, the armor she wore now would have to be clothing enough.

Further exploration yielded a satchel full of emergency supplies, which contained enough cans of omni-gel, medi-gel, and nutritional paste to keep a person alive for up to two weeks. A scavenging trip through the Armory unveiled an M-3 Predator pistol, which she folded up and stowed on her left hip. Picking through the desks granted a credit chit which (according to her omni-tool) contained five hundred units of the electronic currency inside its circuitry. The real treasure she found, however, was in the hangar bay: an old UT-47 Kodiak drop shuttle, fallen into disrepair due to lack of attention.

After searching every inch of both the shuttle and the facility, Gillian concluded about an hour later that she had found everything of worth in the ruins. She was disappointed (but hardly surprised) that she didn't find a biotic amp somewhere in the facility, though perhaps that was for the best. Although her implants gave her some biotic capability, it was nowhere near as much as she could attain with a properly configured amp; simply plugging in any old amp, however, could be far too dangerous to the tech, her nervous system, and the environment around her.

Confident that she was ready to leave, she went back to the old drop shuttle, wiping the dust off the vaguely-cockroach-shaped cockpit with her armored fingers. There was no way the Kodiak could just fly immediately, and even if it could, it was in no way suited for travel beyond the ground. But prior to her capture, Gillian had spent three years in deep space traveling with the Migrant Fleet; if her time with quarians had taught her anything, it was that with a little bit of work, _any_ ship could fly again.

So she set about fixing up the Kodiak with silent resolve, diagnosing the problems with her omni-tool and using its fabrication modules to replace broken parts, panels, and cables. She kept a tidy little pile of scrap metal and plastic nearby, melting some of it down into omni-gel when needed. It took a few hours of tinkering and maintenance (and a couple cans of nutrient paste to keep her strength up) but eventually the Kodiak hummed with life once more.

A holographic projection of an attractive human female appeared in front of the pilot's chair as Gillian clambered in, fastening the safety harness around her as the Kodiak took flight for the first time in years.

"Welcome," said the VI, "Please select a destination."

Using a haptic interface, she typed in "Illusive Man."

"I'm sorry, that is not a valid destination. Please select another destination."

Gillian frowned. She figured it wouldn't be as easy as that, but it didn't hurt to try. She tried again, to the same response.

"I'm sorry, that is not a valid destination. Please select -"

 _Kai Leng._

"I'm sorry, that is not a valid -"

 _Cerberus._

"I'm sorry, that is not a valid -"

 _Nearest Cerberus Facility_.

"No Cerberus Facilities found. Please select another destination."

Gillian seemed apprehensive for a moment, before typing another destination in.

"Confirm destination?"

 _Yes._

"Destination set. Engaging auto pilot. Calculating optimal mass relay pathway. Approaching FTL speeds in three...two...one..."

The little Kodiak shot out of the atmosphere of whatever planet Gillian had awoken on, heading for the nearest mass relay to take the humble vessel to nearly the other side of the galaxy.

Another day awaited her.

Another day quite unlike any other.


	3. Arrival

Chapter Two: Arrival

 _The Systems Alliance UT-47 drop-shuttle landing craft holds 12 soldiers in a cramped, uncomfortable cargo bay and two more in the cockpit. Officially named the Kodiak, the drop-shuttle is better known to Alliance marines as the "combat cockroach" due to its appearance and durability._

 _The vehicle's robust environmental sealant technology exposes few vulnerable parts to the elements. First tested in the sulfuric acid clouds and extreme temperatures of Venus, the Kodiak can land in hard vacuum, high pressure, and temperatures from near-absolute zero to over 900 degrees Celsius._

 _A true contragravitic_ _vehicle, the Kodiak's substantial element zero core allows flight by entirely countering the vehicle's mass. Its small thrusters are for directional control only, so if the mass effect field fails, the vehicle becomes a proverbial "three-million-credit coffin." The unarmed shuttle forgoes weaponry-space for active masking, electronic countermeasures, and a robust kinetic barrier system. It is ideal for dropping troops undetected._

Gillian closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting the echo of the codex narrator's voice hang in her ears for a moment longer. It wasn't that she missed the voice itself all that much - to her, it sounded like whoever made the auditory content for the codex was doing their best impression of the deep-voiced, slow-talking elcor. But it was the meaning behind hearing it that meant something: it meant that she had access to the extranet, and thus was able to learn about the galaxy she had been absent from for a few years.

The "three-million-credit coffin" was serviceable enough in getting her to her destination, even if it groaned and buckled in protest. More than a few fuses were blown apart by the sheer current granted by the mass relays, and with every interstellar jump, Gillian felt the shuttle give out a little more. But she was certain that it would make the journey at least somewhat intact, if in a state that would render it completely unable to fly again. She wouldn't need it anymore once she landed; not where she was going.

By the time the Kodiak had finished its series of jumps across the Milky Way, Gillian had utterly devoured the codex and read the archives of nearly every news network that she could find. She knew everything that had happened in the galaxy since her imprisonment – all the major galactic figures, the most important battles in the war against the Reapers, and the fate of entire worlds were filed away inside her mind.

Most importantly, she had discovered the story of Shepard.

Commander Shepard, the first human Spectre, the hero of the Citadel, and the one who had united the galaxy in its darkest hour. Tales of Shepard's exploits were almost too unbelievable to be true, from uncovering the traitor Saren and exposing the power of Sovereign to curing the krogan race of the genophage and forging a peace between the quarians and the geth. The Collectors, the geth, the Reapers, and even Cerberus itself had opposed Shepard, and all of them had paid the price for their folly. But Shepard's greatest gift to the universe was one that cost the galaxy its hero: when given the chance to destroy the Reapers once and for all, Shepard took it, wiping out the malevolent fleet in a single blast that consumed the galaxy in a blaze of color. No one was quite certain what the blast did, but everyone agrees on the aftermath: the Reapers, the machines that harvested organic life every fifty thousand years, were gone.

But Shepard was gone too.

The galaxy was saved, but was left in ruins and chaos. The damage that the Reapers had inflicted was not undone with their disappearance, and lives, civilizations, and even entire planets were torn asunder in their systematic harvest of intelligent life. The number of those who had died were in the high millions, with billions more unreported and unrecorded. Much of the communications and infrastructure between star systems, which had been built up over thousands of years, had been wiped out in the space of a few hours, leaving all the stranded souls on the other sides of mass relays without a voice. Information was slow to travel, and the extranet was barely even functional – the once-united galaxy was still divided, as it had always been.

There has even been arguments and debates concerning the nature of Shepard's gift itself, and what effect the Crucible really had achieved. The Reapers were gone, yes, but _how?_ Some speculated the simplest answer: the Commander had pulled the trigger on the super weapon, and perished alongside the Reapers in the explosive finish. Some believed that Shepard had learned how to control the Reapers, and now pulled their strings and used the Reapers to mend the damage they had caused in secret. Still others believed that Shepard was used as a template for a higher form of life, synthesizing all mechanical and organic life into one perfect union, just as the Reapers had done. (People with this opinion, Gillian noted, were far more vocal in public forums and news comment sections. They also had a frequent tendency to be banned more often than not.)

Whatever had happened aboard the Crucible, there were more than a few dramatic consequences. For one, the Council more than doubled in size: where before only the turians, asari, salarians, and (most recently) humans had occupied seats on the most important galactic governing body, after the war there was now a councilor to represent the volus, the quarians, the krogans, and even the hanar and the elcor. The road to rebuilding was slow and arduous, but every sapient species was contributing to the effort, as well as developing new technology to lessen the reliance on the tools of the Reapers as the cycles of the past had done. Finally, in a strange way, the war with the Reapers had brought the entire galaxy closer together; no more petty squabbles between governing bodies, no secrets between alien races, and more open travel between interstellar systems.

What particularly got Gillian's attention, however, was that her main enemy – Cerberus – had almost completely dissolved following the rumored disappearance of its enigmatic leader. No one was really certain why, and the lack of conclusive evidence led only to wild speculation. Some people suspected that the Illusive Man himself had played a role in the events on the Crucible, an opinion that was almost regarded as a conspiracy theory. Still, there was no use denying the facts – apart from a few mostly isolated projects, Cerberus was gone.

This information left Gillian both relieved and disheartened. On the one hand, she could finally be free of the shadow she lived under all her life: the constant threat that the Illusive Man was after her, always scheming to take back what belonged to him. On the other hand, she had dedicated her life since she had returned from deep space to exacting her revenge upon Cerberus…now that they were gone, what was she to do now? She supposed she could always go after those "rogue cells" if she really wanted to, but eradicating those seemed to be a fool's errand to her. Most Cerberus projects tended to end in fire and death; there were better things for her to do than bring about the inevitable.

But what? What else was there for her?

It was her hope that she would find answers at her destination.

Gillian had just finished downloading the codex to her omni-tool when the Kodiak began to shudder as it cleared the last relay, before flying into an artificial atmosphere. The VI became active again, prompting Gillian to take the helm manually.

"Now arriving at the Citadel."

* * *

Gillian's experience of the Citadel was limited, as the only time she had ever been at the heart of the galactic community was to find information on the Illusive Man. Beyond that brief time spent, she had only heard about it in words. Back at Grissom Academy, there were a few of her fellow classmates who had parents that took them to the Citadel a few times, or whose parents actually lived on the most advanced artificial space station in the galaxy. Based on their descriptions, all her classmates were left in awe and wonder. To Gillian, it sounded absolutely horrid. Trillions of people on one station? Crowded slums and lots of noise? Hours that lasted a hundred minutes, which in turn lasted a hundred seconds? It sounded like the depths of madness itself. Gillian made a vow to herself to never, ever, _ever_ go to the Citadel.

Yet, here she was, six years later, standing in a crowded transit hub in one of the great arms of the Citadel. All around her, aliens of different sizes, shapes, and colors moved through the space like some sort of river, the flow of travelers never pausing or slowing for a moment. Avian-looking turians, enviro-suit-clad quarians, blue-skinned feminine asari, hulking krogans, limber salarians, rotund volus, and even a few jelly-like hanar trudged through the crowded space, their voices and noises melding together to create a cacophony of sound. Gillian's universal translator picked out bits and pieces of the conversations around her, but none of them really interested her; all she wanted was to survive the horde and find someplace far less crowded.

 _It's too crowded here,_ she thought as she maneuvered around a pair of absent-minded salarians, _too loud. Too warm. Need some personal space. Need to get a shuttle and go someplace where I can rest and get my–_

"Oh my god. Jenny?!"

Gillian turned in the direction that the shrill voice had come from, trying to determine its source. As it turns out, she needn't have bothered. The source had run up to her and latched onto her in a massive, unexpected hug.

The young autistic biotic screamed, drawing the attention of a few nearby turians and a salarian to the scene. Gillian struggled and squirmed as a young human female, probably no older than her, wrapped her arms around her waist and pushed her face up against hers. The girl's hair was shorter than hers, and not quite as sharp of a black – but it still contrasted against the splash of pink that lined the tips of her hair. Her eyes were brown and full of energy, and her collection of variously-sized ponytails – a single long one down her back, and two smaller ones on her sides – bobbed and flew alongside her hair as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Humans," said a turian, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his omni-tool. The other turian did so as well.

"Far too much physical contact for my taste," mused the salarian, "Especially among the females."

Gillian hadn't noticed the responses of those around her. She was still too busy trying to pry herself out of the grip of the hyper-ballistic teen.

"Oh wow I thought you got nabbed by the Collectors over on Freedom's Progress are you okay are you alright do you remember me are we still friends oh my god Jenny it's so good to see you did you miss me are your parents okay did you tell Ricky how you felt about him is he your boyfriend now we have so much to catch up on Jenny and –"

The girl abruptly stopped and stared directly into Gillian's eyes. She gasped and immediately let go of her, and started brushing her hands across her armor. Gillian tried to slap her hands away and block the girl's touches, but the unwanted invader of her personal space managed to get her hands everywhere she could reach.

"Oh my god I am so sorry I thought you were someone else are you okay are you alright here let me brush off that space dust for you and ooh cute butt are you into girls hey do you wanna be EEP!"

The girl let out a shriek as Gillian grabbed her by the collar, gritting her teeth and pulling the intruder's face into hers. The young autistic biotic had a lot of triggers that could send her into sensory overload, and right now this girl was pulling on all of them with reckless abandon. It took every bit of concentration she had to keep herself from having a meltdown in the middle of the transit hub.

"Do! Not! Touch me!" snapped Gillian.

"Whoa, hey, chill out, lady," said the girl, throwing up her hands in resignation, "Thought you were someone else for a sec. Let me go, and I promise you'll never see me again."

"Fine," said Gillian, shoving the girl away from her. The teenage girl smiled and waved, then disappeared into the crowd again.

Gillian breathed out a sigh of relief, moving with the flow of the crowd once more. Like most people with higher forms of autism, interacting with others was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting for her – especially when she didn't initiate it herself. For now, though, she was just glad that the shrill girl was gone – a panic attack in the middle of an unfamiliar location was the last thing she needed right now.

When she finally got to the front of the line, she came face-to-face with an extraordinarily bored-looking turian C-Sec officer, who had an omni-tool on one hand, a credit chit scanner in the other.

"Where are you headed?" asked the officer.

"Zakera ward," said Gillian, "Floor 28."

"How many?"

"Just one."

"That'll be fifteen credits, ma'am."

Gillian reached into her pocket for the credit chit she had looted from the abandoned Cerberus facility…and found nothing but lint. Frantically, she searched the other pockets in her suit, and found everything else but the credit chit. Then she tore into the bag on her shoulder, digging through cans of omni-gel, medi-gel, and nutritional paste in a vain search to find her chit. All the while behind her the line got longer and longer, and the C-Sec officer grew more and more impatient as she grew more and more frantic in her search.

 _It has to be in here somewhere,_ thought Gillian as she started double-checking the inner pockets, _It just has to be..._

"Ma'am," said the turian calmly, "If you can't pay, then please move along. There are people behind you waiting, and it's not fair for them to be held up like this. You can always catch a later shuttle when you find your chit."

"But I just had it!" protested Gillian, "It was right here in my pocket! I didn't even take it out!"

"You're making this harder than it needs to be, sweetie. Next!"

"But I –"

" _Next!_ "

Gillian stepped back, flabbergasted as an asari stepped up while holding the hand of a young quarian child. She shook her head in disbelief, checking every one of her pockets for her credit chit. She didn't remember putting it in any pocket besides her back left pocket, which was now empty. She could have sworn that the credit chit was in there, since she felt it there just before –

Just before that girl had run up and hugged her.

Or rather, run up and _mugged_ her.

"That little _bosh'tet,_ " growled Gillian.

"Language," chimed the little quarian.

Gillian backtracked through the long line of travelers, asking anyone willing to lend an ear if they had seen a human girl pass by. Most of them ignored her, a krogan snarled at her, and a hanar tried to calm her down by spreading the wisdom of the Enkindlers. She was just about at her wit's end when a volus poked a finger in her chest before she could even say a word.

"There you are!" said the volus, the sound of his breathing amplified by the enviro-suit he wore, "Give me back my credit chit at once, you little thief!"

"What – me?" snapped Gillian defiantly, "What did I do?"

"You stole my credit chit!" accused the volus, "You walked right up to me and nearly bowled me over! Then when I got up, my credit chit was missing! Return it, before I alert C-Sec!"

"I didn't pick your stupid pocket!" snapped Gillian, " _I'm_ the one who got pick-pocketed!"

The volus looked thoroughly embarrassed, taking a deep breath of ammonia-rich air before speaking again.

"Oh. I apologize, Earth clan. I thought you were the one that stole from me. Then again, now that I can see, you do lack the color in your hair that she did…"

Color in the hair? That sounded like the criminal mastermind at large.

"Did you see where she went?" asked Gillian hopefully.

The volus nodded, pointing in a direction behind Gillian. After nodding in thanks, she ran off at full tilt, an angry look in her eyes. Behind her, the volus turned to a hanar that walked alongside him.

"I remember the days when it was just those clanless quarians that pilfered people's pockets," huffed the volus, "Now the Earth clan are doing it too. What is this galaxy coming to?"

"This one thinks the volus should try to be a little more open minded," said the hanar, "Some people have simply fallen on hard times."

 _Some of us harder than others,_ thought Gillian as she rushed to find the thief.

* * *

After following a trail of similarly-robbed citizens, Gillian finally found herself in front of a dark alleyway. The lights along the ceiling of the alley had gone out, and apparently no one had bothered to replace it. The sound of fluid dripping and heavy breathing echoed out of the darkness, spelling danger to anyone who heard it. The smell alone that wafted from beyond her sight was almost enough to make the young woman gag; still, she steeled herself as she walked into the shadows.

 _No escape._

Gillian switched on the flashlight functionality on her omni-tool, projecting a wide beam of light from the holographic gauntlet that formed around her hand. Her other hand reached for the M-3 Predator pistol concealed on her hip, pushing the button on the side to make it fold out of its collapsed state in anticipation. She was hoping she wouldn't have to use it, but she didn't want to be caught defenseless if danger did rear its ugly head – and without a biotic amp, even her mastery over mass effect fields couldn't do more than tip over a drunken volus.

She swept the light in front of her, carving a path through the darkness. Her heart beat inside her ears, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge. A sharp crack broke the silence from behind her, and she whirled to face the source of the noise.

That was what the person in the dark was counting on.

Gillian caught a glimpse of pink hair as a hand came and slapped her across the face, making her cheek sting with red pain. Another hand raised to slap her other cheek, but she caught it mid-swing, yanking on the wrist as she drove her knee into the assailant's gut. The blow knocked the wind right out of her opponent, giving Gillian ample time to shove the attacker right into the corner hard enough to make them stumble.

She drew the pistol from her hip, aiming it with one hand and shining the light onto the now-panting foe. Sure enough, it was exactly who she thought it was.

"Okay, okay, here!" wheezed the little thief, "You can have your stupid credit chit back! Just put the gun away before you get us _both_ in trouble!"

"Too late for that!" snapped Gillian, "You took my credit chit!"

"You shoved me!"

"You made me miss my shuttle!"

"You assaulted me!"

"You made me nervous!"

" _You're still pointing a gun at my face!_ "

"Just answer my questions!"

"You haven't asked anything yet!"

"Where are your parents?!"

"Where are yours, you freak?!"

"Do _not_ call me that! I asked you first, and I have the gun!"

"I'd be happy to answer, once you _put it away!_ "

"Not until you tell me why you're alone!"

"Why don't you tell me why _you're_ alone? Oh wait, I know! Because you're a _crazy psychopath with a gun!_ "

"Just tell me where your parents are!"

"Check the morgue! You'll find them there! Along with all the _other_ people those human psychos shot when they launched an assault on the Citadel!"

Gillian's throat was raw from screaming, and her anger seemed to ebb away. The human girl in front of her, once full of energy, was now curled up into a ball of sobs and tears. Gillian recalled from the codex an entry all about how Cerberus had once gathered enough resources and manpower to launch a full-on attack on the Citadel itself, in a bid to assassinate the Salarian Councilor and upset the balance of power. A lot of people had died when the armored killing machines invaded and flooded the streets…and here was someone who had lost two of the most important people in her life to those bastards.

"You lost your parents to Cerberus?" asked Gillian quietly. The girl nodded with a sob.

With a sigh, Gillian collapsed her pistol again, concealing it in its pouch on her left hip again. She bent down and knelt next to the girl, turning down the light from her omni-tool so it wasn't quite so blinding.

"I am sorry I yelled at you."

"I'm sorry I called you a freak," she sobbed.

"I am sorry I pointed a gun at you."

"I'm sorry I took your chit."

"I am sorry I hurt you."

"I'm sorry I stuffed a flashbang in your pocket."

"I am sorry I – wait, what –"

All at once, a flash of light and a shriek of noise went off over Gillian's heart, blinding and deafening her. She screamed in anguish as her entire world went white and silent, while the silhouette of a twin-tailed girl got up and ran away.

She grit her teeth, fighting to keep the flashbang from sending her into sensory overload. With a feral growl, Gillian reflexively whirled to face the fleeing female. She swung her left hand down and to her side, while she swung upward with her right fist. This was the motion that, if she had her biotic amplifier plugged in, would have triggered a stasis field around her opponent; her body glowed with a weak azure corona, and a pitiful little mass effect field formed around the girl.

It wasn't enough to restrain her, but it was enough to make her stumble a little bit. This took both girls by surprise, though Gillian didn't sit and gawk at her own latent ability. Instead, she pressed the advantage, scrambling to her feet and tackling the awestruck girl, driving her knees into her back and slamming her hands down onto her wrists.

"Do not! Ever! Do that! Again!" shrieked Gillian.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Really! But I had no idea you were a biotic! I don't want any trouble!"

"Too late for that!"

"Are you all by yourself too?"

Gillian paused, the momentary rage once again leaving her system.

"…yes."

"The Reaper War took away everyone you ever cared about, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Nowhere to go? Nowhere to stay?"

"No."

"Welcome to the life of a Citadel orphan, honey. Can you let me up please?"

"Are you going to stick another flashbang in my pocket?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to run away?"

"I'll try not to."

"Promise?"

"If you promise not to shoot me or hit me."

"Okay."

Gillian got off of the girl, who in turn rolled over back onto her backside. She sat up across from Gillian, and the two teenage runaways looked at each other for a moment.

"So," asked the girl inquisitively, "what are you gonna do now?"

Gillian sighed. "I…I do not know. I have no friends or family, and I do not have a home. I am not sure what to do next."

"Well," said the girl, "I don't have any friends or family either. But I do have a home. Sort of. Free rent. Nice location. Running water, extranet access…the whole gig. Gets a little lonely there myself, though. Plenty of room for you to make yourself cozy…if you want."

Gillian stared at the girl, who just a few minutes ago had been picking her pockets and planting a flashbang grenade on her. Disbelief was written all over her face, as her former assailant was now offering up her home to the girl who had thoroughly thrashed her.

"Are you…asking me to live with you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"But I thought only friends lived together like that."

"Well, aren't we friends now?"

"I'm not sure. Are we?"

"I think we are."

"…oh. Okay. That was...easier than I always thought it was."

"Not much of a people person?"

"Autism."

"Ohhhhhh...That makes a lot of sense, actually. In that case, yeah. We're friends. I mean, if you want."

"I think I do. Want to be friends, that is."

The girl grinned a wide, joyful grin. Before it could fully form, however, it faltered.

"Wait. You're not Cerberus, are you?"

Gillian suddenly felt like a sniper rifle slug just went through her heart, turning her blood to ice in its veins. "Wh...Cerberus is gone."

"As an organization, sure," said the girl, "But as an idea? Oh, it's alive and kicking, unfortunately. Even with the Illusive Man all but confirmed dead, there are a lot of people that just won't let go of the idea of 'humans are special and the best and therefore everything else must die' that Cerberus stood for. That idea is still around, even in times of peace like this – no, _especially_ in times like this. They may change their name, they might put on a new face, but trust me honey, Cerberus ain't dead. It's still there in the shadows, looking for new young minds to sculpt and shape. Nothing good has ever come out of Cerberus...and nothing ever will."

Now the ice cold feeling gave way to a burning anger. Cerberus...its horrors, its ideas, its methods...the codex was wrong. Cerberus didn't disappear. It had evolved.

It had evolved into a form that Gillian couldn't fight.

"Well?" The girl was looking at Gillian expectantly. The young biotic, after a moment, shook her head fervently. The girl's eyes lit up once more, and the smile returned as though it had never disappeared at all.

"Then follow me," said the twin-tailed girl, "my pad's just past the Silversun Strip. It's not too far from here. Just stay off the streets, and you'll be fine."

Gillian nodded, watching the girl as she climbed up a ladder previously obscured in the darkness. She turned as she was halfway up, looking down at her with big brown eyes.

"I'm Miko, by the way. Miko Nakadai. What's your name?"

"…Gillian. Gillian Grayson."

"Huh. You related to Dick Grayson?"

"Who?"

"Never mind."

And so with a shrug, Gillian followed Miko up the ladder, staying close to her as they ran off into the shadows.

It seemed like Gillian's days of being alone were over.

 _As long as she doesn't know where I came from._


	4. Home

Chapter 3: Home

Gillian followed Miko Nakadai through a series of ventilation ducts that ran throughout the walls and ceilings of the Citadel, crouching low to the ground to fit inside the narrow shafts. The girl that led the way was certainly full of energy, and not at all shy about making a lot of noise. But she also seemed to have a keen eye for hazards and pitfalls, and an excellent sense of direction. Even though she might have been a common thief just a while ago, Gillian was glad to have her as a guide.

"Just up ahead," said Miko, her voice echoing against the metallic shaft, "There's an opening close to the ground. Bit of a drop before it, though, so mind your butt."

"Don't you mean 'mind your head'?"

"That too. That's pretty important."

Miko moved ahead a few feet, before seemingly dropping out of sight. The sound of a metallic THUD and a second of grunting told Gillian that Miko had made it out of the duct. She hesitated for a moment, before she followed the lead of the slightly-shorter human. She managed to crawl her way out with only a small amount of difficulty, due to her height and the fact that she was wearing a combat hardsuit.

"Any particular reason why you're wearing armor?" Miko asked as Gillian brushed space dust off the crimson ceramic surface. "I mean, good on you for rocking the classics, but why not just wear normal clothes?"

"I don't have any clothes," replied Gillian, "and I like this armor."

"Really? You have no other clothes?"

Gillian shook her head.

"Then we are totally going shopping after we get you settled in," said Miko with a grin, "But that can wait until later. Let's get something to eat."

And with that, Miko darted off once more, and Gillian followed her through the blue-steel halls of the Citadel wards. The corridors weren't nearly as crowded now as the transit hub was a while ago, but there were still far more people around than Gillian would have liked. If she were following anyone else, it would be easy to lose her guide in the sea of faces. But the splash of pink in her black hair – not to mention the bunches that bounced up and down as she did – identified Miko from the rest, so it was hard for Gillian to lose sight of her even if she wanted to.

And at this point, she really didn't want to.

"Is your apartment nearby?" Gillian asked, after they had made a turn at an intersection.

"Yeah, it's just left down that way," replied Miko as she kept moving.

"...but we're going right," said Gillian pointedly.

"Yes we are."

Gillian stopped moving for a moment, frowning. Miko seemed to sense her discontent, because she stopped and turned to face her new friend.

"I thought you said we were going to the apartment," said Gillian accusingly.

"We will, after we get some food."

"That's not what you said we would do."

"Well, it's what we're doing now. You hungry?"

Gillian's argument deflated in response to that question. Her stomach rumbled as it craved something other than that bland nutrient paste, and she was pretty sure that her taste buds would go on strike if she tried to force down another can of that bland mush. So she nodded.

"Okay, then," said Miko with a smile, "Let's go and get some food. Hey, is it true that you biotics can eat a whole varren in one sitting?"

"Well, I have never tried that," responded Gillian earnestly as they moved again, "but one of the challenges of living with biotics is getting adequate nutrition. Creating mass effect fields takes such a toll on the metabolism that active biotics develop ravenous appetites. The standard Alliance combat ration for a soldier is three thousand calories per day; biotics are given - "

"Never mind," said Miko, rolling her eyes, "If I wanted that, I could have just read the codex. Come on, my favorite place is just up ahead. You'll know it when you see it."

Gillian frowned again, silently falling behind her new friend. Her disappointment at failing to carry on a conversation faded when she saw where Miko stopped, replaced by a sense of awe and fascination.

The small diner that opened up before her wasn't anything too out of the ordinary. There was no door or window, which was typical of most Citadel sundries and cafes – it was open to the masses that passed by it on their day-to-day commute. A single long table held enough stools to serve a dozen people, half of which were occupied at the moment they entered. Aside from the counter, there was nothing separating the kitchen from the dining area – the sizzling steam of meat being cooked, the bubbling boils of pots and pans full of stew, and the smell of freshly-chopped vegetables all wafted through the air, catching the senses of anyone who passed by.

But what caught her eye first was the chef behind the counter. He – at least, Gillian assumed he was a he – was easily ten feet tall, with arms as long as she was tall with four times the mass. Only one of those arms was in use right now – the other one was pressed firmly against the ground, helping the densely-muscled legs support the tall, hunched-over frame it was part of. His head was almost indistinguishable from his body, with a pair of black beady eyes on the front of his face and a series of slits taking the place of a mouth and nose.

An elcor.

Miko leapt into a seat, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. "Hey, Cal. How's business?"

The elcor turned deliberately to Miko. Even though he lacked the same facial features they did, Gillian had a feeling that the chef was smiling.

"Delighted welcome," said Cal ponderously, "Hello, Miko. Curiously, who is your friend here?"

Gillian froze, feeling chills go down her spine as the elcor gently tilted his head in her direction. She knew why the elcor sounded so monotonous and deep-voiced; in their native speech, elcor body language and inflection was so in-depth that a simple smile seemed as subtle as a flashbang grenade. They made an effort to preface their statements with their intentions, since those subtleties were unable to be mimicked through the universal translators everyone wore.

"This is Gillian," said Miko proudly, thankfully taking the pressure off the fascinated biotic, "I met her down in the transit hub. She beat me up after I stole her credit chit. Now she's my new roomie. Funny how that works, huh?"

Gillian gave no response to Miko, only waving tepidly at Cal. The grey-skinned elcor gave a subtle nod of his head, blinking slowly in greeting.

"Sincerely, I am happy to make your acquaintance, Gillian. I trust you will keep Miko here out of trouble from now on."

Miko gave a rather unlady-like snort. "Cal, please, when have I ever been in trouble?"

"Playful retort, when have you ever not been in trouble? Will you be having your usual?"

"You know it. In fact, go ahead and whip up a bowl for my friend here. That alright with you, Gillian?"

Gillian nodded, turning her attention to Cal as he slowly set about preparing a meal. She was transfixed on the slow, deliberate nature of his every move, watching closely as the lumbering giant (to her, at least) went about his course of action.

She understood why the elcor was moving so slowly – millions of years on their high-gravity world of Dekuuna, where a single slip could result in a fatal fall, had taught them the value and meaning of caution and careful movements. To her, the elcor resembled a cross between an elephant and a gorilla, with the imposing figure of the former and the gentleness of the latter. She also appreciated how the elcor prefaced their every statement with how they were feeling – sometimes it was so hard for her to gage what or how people were feeling at any given moment.

Ever since she was a young girl, she was fascinated by the elcors. The way they moved, the way they spoke, the way they acted, the way they lived. She would search the extranet for elcor videos, and would often spend entire afternoons watching documentaries, movies, and even video blogs that included them. Her classmates often teased her for this, saying that "If you like the elcor so much, why don't you marry one when you grow up?" At first, Gillian thought they meant this seriously, and had earnestly asked her classmates if they knew any elcor looking for marriage.

Her face-to-face experience with non-human species was, for a time, severely limited. All she had were what the codex and her textbooks said about the other races, and what her classmates said about them. Granted, it didn't help that she mostly grew up in human-only environments, thanks to her father's work with Cerberus and the biotic experiments on her. It wasn't until she first met the quarians that she was introduced to the idea of living with aliens; the three years she spent aboard the Idenna had opened her eyes to the galaxy around her considerably.

Still, the elcor captivated her. Even by the standards of galaxy-wide organic life, they were so different from anything else.

Gillian knew exactly what that felt like.

"Never seen an elcor this close before, huh?"

Her trance was broken by Miko, who was looking at her with a bemused smile. Gillian shook her head in response.

"Heh. I thought so. I've read how kids with autism seem to love elephants. You know, back on Earth, before we made it to the stars. I guess the elcor scratch that same itch, huh?"

Gillian suddenly became very aware of her behavior, and very flustered. She had forgotten that the elcor in front of her was a person, and people generally did not like being stared at.

"Is it rude to stare?" she asked hastily, "Should I apologize?"

Miko shook her head. "Nah, it's fine. Cal will let you know if it bothers him. I don't think he minds, though – he's as patient as a saint, and an absolute sweetheart. Plus he makes the best ramen you'll find anywhere on the Citadel. You like ramen, right?"

Gillian shrugged. "I don't know. I have never had it before."

"Seriously?" Miko said in disbelief, "not even once?"

"Not unless you count a Happy Bowl."

Then the strangest thing happened. For a moment, Miko just looked at the autistic biotic with eyes wide open. The next minute, she started laughing hysterically. She laughed for a good minute, tears spilling from her eyes as she leaned against the table. The other patrons all stared momentarily at the two human teens as one of them laughed her head off; the other was paralyzed as a turian couple, an unblinking salarian, and a trio of tough-looking krogans all gazed at the display. Cal spared a glance at Miko, then chuckled softly, which did not ease Gillian's nerves.

"Miko...?" Gillian asked cautiously, "Are you...are you okay?"

"Ahahaha..." Miko breathed after she had calmed down. "Wow, Gillian. You are _hilarious_."

"I am?"

"Sure you are! A Happy Bowl? Really? That ain't ramen, honey – that's literally just edible plastic! Well, for a given definition of 'edible', really. If that's the only experience you have with this, well...ah man, you are just too much."

"Too much what?"

"Too much...eh, y'know."

"I don't, sorry."

"Ah, well, heh. Looks like we've gotta work on your sense of humor, then. Hot damn, Cal, done already? That's gotta be a new record!"

The elcor chef chuckled softly as he carefully set two large plastic bowls in front of the girls, both of them steaming with long, stringy noodles in a savory broth. "Humbly, I always make an effort to rush for my best customers."

"Aw, shut up. You're making me blush."

The elcor chuckled softly again, walking away back to the cutting board where an odd assortment of vegetables lay half-chopped. "With good favor, enjoy your meal girls."

Miko didn't respond; her mouth was already full of noodles.

Gillian looked down at the ramen bowl in front of her, staring apprehensively at the strange utensils that lay side-by-side with a piece of toasted bread. She puzzled over how to eat the food in front of her for a moment, turning a glance to her friend to see how she used them. After watching Miko for a moment, she followed her behavior, eventually managing to snag a single long, broth-soaked noodle between her lips.

It tasted _awful_.

Not that it was improperly cooked or made with poor skill; from the texture and consistency, Gillian could tell that the elcor had poured a lot of heart and work into the meal, and it showed. But the actual flavors of the ramen itself – the rubbery taste of the noodle itself, the scalding heat of the freshly-boiled broth, the powdery essence of various kinds of vegetables – were not really resonating with her, and it showed. Her face scrunched up as though there was a singularity located in her nose; her utensils clattered to the tray as she felt a foul sensation creep up her spine.

"Not a fan of ramen, eh?" said Miko, gulping down a mouthful of noodles.

Gillian shook her head. "I guess not."

"You're weird."

"I know," replied Gillian, turning her hazel gaze down at the bowl in front of her. The bowl she no longer wanted. Miko, realizing her error, quickly changed the subject.

"Well, hey," she said encouragingly, "at least you tried it. And I guess that means more for me! May I?"

After a tepid nod, the young teen grinned and licked her lips as she dumped the contents of Gillian's bowl into her own. She caught another mouthful of noodles between her lips, munching contentedly on her favorite food.

"Polite suggestion," said Cal, "Can I get you something else?"

Gillian looked at the elcor that watched her with concern, eventually picking up the piece of bread that had come with the dish.

"No," she said as she nibbled on the bread, "I'm not sure what I'm hungry for."

"Empathetically, I understand. If there is anything else I can do for you, you just need to -"

"Hey! Where the hell are my varren skewers?!"

Cal turned slowly to the impatient krogan that glowered at him from across the table, wide-set eyes blinking in irritation. "Patient reminder, I already explained this to you. I have the grill's temperature set so that it would take twenty standard minutes to properly cook the meat. If I set it any higher, I may not be able to react in time if there is a fire."

The krogan snarled. "Yeah, well if I don't get my grub in ten minutes, then there definitely will be a fire! Let's see how you like that, slowpoke!"

"Moderately insulted, I am already going as fast as I can."

"Well it's not fast enough!" The krogan slammed both his fists onto the table, shaking the surface. Gillian winced as the other two krogan followed suit; she noticed that Miko was holding her full bowl of ramen above the table, to keep it from splashing. Evidently, this behavior from the demanding krogans was commonly accepted by the other patrons.

 _Well I'm not going to accept it_ , thought Gillian to herself. The krogan was loud, brash, and disrespectful, three things that she couldn't stand.

"Patient reassurance, there is no need to -"

"Why not go somewhere else, then?"

Six reptilian, wide-set eyes snapped to glare at the little black-haired human girl, followed by a pair of salarian eyes, two pairs of turian eyes, and a widened set of human eyes.

"You say somethin', human?" the krogan growled.

"I did," said Gillian without a trace of fear in her voice, "I said that if you don't like the service here, then feel free to eat somewhere else. I'm sure there are other places on the Citadel to get skewers."

The other two krogan looked to the first one, who blinked several times in surprise. Then he rose to his feet, towering over the table, the stool, and Gillian all at once. His companions were quick to rise as well, quick to back up the leader of their group.

"You tryin' to start something, human? You wanna fight, huh?"

Gillian got up and rose to her own feet, furrowing her brow as she looked the krogan in the eye. She barely came up to the krogan's chest in height, and she had to tilt her head up to match the his gaze, but she didn't look intimidated.

"If that's what it takes to make you respect the chef, then yes. I will fight you."

Everyone's utensils fell to their trays with a clatter. For a moment, no one dared to make a move. A single krogan was large and strong enough to swallow a kid like her whole and leave room for seconds, and there were three of them standing in front of a fifteen-year-old child. They were a species made to fight, kill, and survive – there was no way that Gillian could fight them and escape unscathed, much less alive.

"Three on one, whelp," said the lead krogan, "It's not a fair fight."

"You're right," retorted Gillian, "the odds are not in your favor."

Both parties just stood there for a moment, neither one moving. Eventually – and to the surprise of everyone – the krogan was the one to back down.

"Come on," snarled the krogan to his followers, "Let's go somewhere else. Somewhere faster. And cheaper. And where there aren't as many _freaks_."

Gillian felt her temper flare up immediately at that last word, and it took every bit of willpower she had to suppress it. No matter how much she hated being called...that...there was no point in fighting a krogan over it.

So after she let out a sigh of relief when the krogan walked away, she sat back at her seat, resuming her former position as though nothing had happened. She felt the staring gazes of the other patrons on the back of her neck, and tried her best to ignore them.

"Whoa," said Miko, visibly awed, "I've never seen a human stare down a krogan before, let alone three of them. What are you, exactly?"

"I don't know," sighed Gillian, "I'm still looking for an answer to that question."

"With sincere gratitude," said Cal, "thank you for standing up for me. It was not expected, but it was appreciated. If there is anything I can do to repay you, tell me."

Gillian's stomach rumbled as she spied the half-cooked varren skewers on the grill, abandoned by the ones who had ordered them.

"Um...can I have what they were going to have?"

* * *

After the meal, Gillian followed Miko once again through the crowd of people. The two teens were talking as they wove their way through pedestrians who were likely heading back to their home.

"I've never seen anyone wolf down that many skewers before!" Miko said in admonishment. "Where are you keeping all that, your left toe?"

"No," said Gillian, "I keep it in my digestive system, like everyone else."

"Well, you've got a pretty effective one there," said Miko, "I feel stuffed after eating just one of those things. You ate all three!"

"They were very good."

"I'm not doubting that. But if you throw up on the floor tonight, I ain't cleaning it up. Ah, here we are. Right through here."

"...another ventilation duct? Why can't we just use the door?"

"Because for us Citadel orphans, these ducts are doors. Come on, this one's shorter than the other one we took. A little bigger, too."

So, at Miko's insistence, Gillian once again wormed her way through the steel square pathway that fed into the wall and opened up somewhere else. A short crawl later, and Gillian once again emerged into a new area entirely.

"Ta-da!" Miko waved her hands in the air for dramatic effect. "Home sweet home! For the last few months, at least."

The two girls had emerged from a grate in the wall onto a balcony, overlooking the lower floor of a spacious, luxurious apartment. The walls were made of a polished, almost pearl-like white metal, while the floors boasted crimson carpeting and faux-wooden flooring. Stairs of stainless steel joined the top and bottom levels, turning at ninety-degree angles to create three landings per set of stairs. Gillian looked over the railing and saw several long, soft-looking couches in two different formations, with one set being positioned directly in front of a very large video screen. Directly behind her, two wall-sized paintings hung in displays of vivid, entrancing colors, while in the corner sat what appeared to be an assortment of metal spikes welded together. She recognized the art as asari and turian, respectively – whoever owned this apartment before Miko clearly had refined taste.

"Like the art, huh? I'm not really an art gal, but if you like it, that's cool too. Here, there's more just around the corner here."

With that, Miko disappeared around the corner of the second floor, prompting a curious Gillian to follow her. When she rounded the corner, she saw two more couches facing one another, with a glass table between them. Lining the walls around the couches were steel shelves, which held paper books, documents, and holographic pictures suspended in plastic frames.

Miko plopped down on one of the couches and propped her feet up, while Gillian glanced over the

All of the holos had a different subject – an old-looking salarians, a human soldier, a unique-looking geth, and an aging drell rested on one shelf, while pictures of a young asari, a quarian, a scarred turian, and a pair of krogan took up another. But one picture stood out among the rest, and Gillian gasped when she saw it.

It was a picture of all the previous subjects lined up in front of a frigate.

The _SSV Normandy_.

"Miko!"

"Yeah? Got a complaint already?"

Gillian looked at her new friend in shock. "This is…this was Shepard's apartment! We can't stay here!"

Miko shrugged as she relaxed on the couch. "Well, Shepard isn't here anymore, Gillian. And since no one else has come to repossess it or take it over, might as well use it."

"But…" protested Gillian, "This is a memorial! A monument! If they find us living here, they'll boot us out!"

"Everyone's scrambling to rebuild after the Reapers ruined everything," said Miko plainly, "They're not gonna notice a couple of broke, homeless girls bumming in an apartment no one comes and uses anyways. And if they do, so what? We'll just find another one."

Gillian wanted to protest further, but Miko cut her off with a wave of a hand.

"Look, honey. The life of a Citadel orphan isn't one of glamour and luxury. No one on this station, human or alien, is going to give a bunch of kids like us a legitimate job. No one's giving us any handouts, either, or any kind of attention whatsoever. To everyone else on this station, we're basically invisible, lumped in with all the other refugees from all the other worlds that got their lives ruined when the Reapers showed up with their fancy space magic and wrecked everything. So if we kids wanna have a chance of becoming normal members of society, we're gonna have to do some things they don't approve of. And yes, that can include picking pockets off of newcomers to buy food, hopping from unused apartment to unused apartment, and plunging into the still-damaged wards searching for scrap and stuff that's still worth salvaging. I've been living like this for three whole years, Gillian – and as sketchy as what I do sounds, it is nothing compared to what goes on in the alleys after the lights go out. Does that make sense?"

Gillian tepidly nodded.

"Good," said Miko, stretching and yawning. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. And I've gotta get up early to beat the rest of the looters to the good stuff. So I'm gonna go ahead and turn in for the night. You should too, you look like you've had a long day. Feel free to use the bathroom up here – let me show you how to get there."

With a sigh, Gillian followed Miko as she sprung up from the couch, leading her into the bedroom. There was a large, queen-sized bed with ebony black covers in the middle of the room, a bathroom to one side with tiled walls of dull silver, and a closet on the other side with a workbench and various assorted tools. But what really got Gillian's attention – what dispelled any doubt she had of living in someone else's apartment – was the large, square tub that extended just past the edge of the bathroom sink.

Gillian's eyes went wide as soon as she saw it. "Does…does that work?"

Miko looked where Gillian was looking, and nodded. "Yep. Running water, hot and cold."

"Can I…can I use it?" asked Gillian timidly.

Miko shrugged. "Knock yourself out. Well, not literally. You're cute, but I'd really rather not have to give mouth-to-mouth today. Forgot to brush my teeth. Anyways, I'll head downstairs and get ready for bed. Take all the time in the tub you want."

Gillian nearly squealed in excitement as Miko descended down the stairs. She hurried to the bathroom and pried open her suit, popping the ceramic plating and pulling the mesh apart. It was okay if she broke the actual material; since all the equipment was flash-forged out of omni-gel, it was just a matter of melting it down again and remaking the suit when she needed it next. She stepped out of her armor like a thresher maw shedding its skin; soon she stood there in only the undergarments she wore in her stasis pod. They would make for good swimming clothes, she decided – she didn't quite feel comfortable taking everything off yet.

It only took a few minutes for the tub to fill up with clean, fresh water. As she slipped into the tub she found out, to her delight, that it was spacious and deep enough to be considered a miniature pool. Gillian sighed in contentment as she leaned back, letting her black hair float around her as the water pooled around her ears. She let herself float in the warm water, arching her back and leaving her seat as she did so. After taking a deep breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose and gently sank to the bottom, disappearing beneath the foamy surface.

Water flooded into her ears and caressed her every sore muscle, as she lay completely submerged on the floor of the hot tub. Bubbles wormed their way through the gaps in her lips, and the sounds they made echoed and reverberated against the walls, the surface, everything. Gillian smiled and let a small stream of bubbles out the side of her mouth, decreasing her buoyancy even more and allowing her to lay nearly flat on the bottom.

This, to her, was what safety meant. The flow of the water. The sound of the echoes. The tickling of air climbing to the surface. It was…soothing. Beautiful. Cleansing.

When her lungs eventually hungered for fresh air, Gillian willingly complied. She blew the stale air out her lips and her nose, performing a gentle stroke that sent her head above the surface again. With a deep breath, she floated back over to the edge, leaning her head against the side of the hot tub and letting herself float again.

"Huh. I was just beginning to wonder whether or not you were drowning."

Gillian turned in the water to see Miko laying on the floor of the bathroom, resting her chin on her hands. Her new friend was wearing pink pajama slacks and a yellow shirt a size too big, leaving a shoulder exposed in the hole where the neck is supposed to go.

"How long was I under for?" asked Gillian.

Miko shrugged. "I dunno. I just came up a few seconds ago."

"I want to try again. Can you time me?"

"Sure," said Miko, lazily firing up her omni-tool. "Go whenever."

So after another trip underwater, Gillian surfaced and looked at Miko expectantly. "Well?" she asked, "How long was that?"

"Forty-seven seconds," replied Miko, glancing at her omni-tool.

Gillian frowned. "Hmm. I'm regressing. I used to be able to hit a minute and fifteen before I needed to surface. I'll have to keep at this if I want to get there again."

"You really like water, huh," said Miko in a semi-interested tone. She rolled over so that she stared at Gillian upside-down, her now-loose hair falling around her face.

The young autistic teen nodded. "Ever since I was little. When I was six years old, my father and I lived next to a lake on some startup colony. Every day I'd go down to the water and watch people as they swam, for fun or for work. I watched what they did, how they moved in the water, how they swam. I didn't know how to swim, but I thought I had learned enough just from watching them. So one day, I jumped into the deep end of the lake, to test this."

"And?"

"I hadn't learned enough," said Gillian sheepishly.

"Oh."

"I still remember every second of it," said Gillian as she closed her eyes, "I tried to move my arms like they did, but I couldn't understand how they kept their head above the water. I kicked and tried to swim up, but the only direction I went was down. Cold water filled my lungs, leaving a burning sensation in my chest as I..."

"Yeah, I get the picture," said Miko, "You were drowning. Then what?"

"I thought I was going to die. But then a strong hand grabbed mine, and pulled me out of the water. When I was breathing again, I saw that it was my father. He saved me, and pulled me to the shallow end. He said to me, 'Gigi, if you really wanted to swim that badly, you just need to ask me to teach you.' So I asked him to teach me, and he did. I've loved the water ever since."

Gillian's smile and enthusiasm faded as she stared at the swirling surface of the hot tub, her happy memory crumbling as new information shed light on it.

 _Of course_ , thought Gillian darkly, _the real reason he saved me was probably because of how "valuable" I was. I can't imagine that the Illusive Man would react well to the fact that he had lost the biotic research I represented just because Paul Grayson wasn't on lifeguard duty that day. I had always thought that he saved me because he loved me, but now...now I'm not so sure._

"Heh. You are a weird kid. You know that, Gillian?"

Gillian nodded, sinking down so that only her eyes and ears were above the water. She let out one more stream of bubbles from her nose and mouth as she did so, letting her hair float around her. When she was out of air, she pulled the plug on the bottom, climbed out of the hot tub, and wrapped herself in a towel she had set nearby.

"Is it okay if I sleep there?" she asked, pointing to the bed.

Miko jumped up onto the bed like a cat, patting the side next to her. "Yep. Park it here. I can scooch over."

"Wait, you mean share the bed?"

"Sure, it's made for two anyways. Relax, I don't bite. Usually."

Gillian hesitated, then reluctantly sat down on the edge of the queen-sized bed. The towel she was wrapped in was large enough to cover her entire body; only her head and sopping wet hair poked out of the soft, water-absorbent crimson fabric. Miko promptly created a cocoon for herself out of the bedsheets, poking her arm out of the black material just long enough to press a holographic button nearby. A moment later, all the lights went out in the apartment, leaving only darkness.

"There we go," said Miko lazily, "You want a blanket or anything?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Alright then, good night. Don't worry, I won't snuggle up to you if you don't snuggle up to me. Don't want to make this weird or anything."

That was the third time Miko had used that word in reference to Gillian. She bit her lower lip as her eyelids trembled.

"Miko," she said quietly, "is being weird bad?"

"Depends on the kind of weird. And how much weird there is."

"How weird can I be before I become bad?"

Miko righted herself up, realizing what Gillian had meant.

"What makes you say that?"

"I know that I'm weird," said Gillian, "I know that I'm not normal. People don't like me very much, because I'm not like them. I'm as alien to them as a turian, or an asari, or a hanar. So they keep their distance. They call me a freak behind my back when they're nice, and they say it to my face if they're not. They think that I don't notice, but I do. I do notice, and it hurts."

Gillian pulled the towel over her face, keeping herself covered as she softly sobbed. Miko reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she recoiled fiercely from the touch. At a loss, the black-and-pink haired teen just folded her arms over her chest and waited for her friend to calm down.

"And...I want to be like them," said Gillian, when she felt ready to speak again, "I want to make friends like they do. I want to do what they do. But...I don't know how. I never had a chance to learn. I...never really had a friend before."

"Well, you've got one now, right?"

Gillian poked her head out from under the towel, looking at Miko through the dark. Even though there was hardly any light, Gillian somehow knew that her friend was smiling in the darkness.

"I know how it is," said Miko gently, "I mean, not the autism, but the whole 'wanting to make friends' part. I was a spacer kid, I practically grew up on spaceships. My parents were both Alliance, and I didn't have much other family, so I tagged along on all these different tours of service. I was going to join the Alliance myself, once I turned eighteen, before...well, anyways, there weren't too many other kids toddling around on a dreadnought, so I was pretty much on my own. I had to figure out a lot of stuff by myself – I'm still not a total expert on everything, but I can at least fool people into thinking I'm kinda normal. And I can teach you, if you want."

The young autistic biotic beamed. "You...you'd do that?"

"Of course. We're buddies now. Roomies. Friends. But not right now, of course. Right now I need some sleep. You could probably use some too, given the kind of day you had."

Gillian chuckled softly. "Okay. Thank you. And...good night, Miko."

"Night, Gigi."

And so the two tired teens fell asleep within an instant, both of them warm with comfort that stemmed from one simple fact.

They weren't alone anymore.


End file.
